


Inner Thoughts

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Can be seen as either friendship or relationship, Comforting Greg Lestrade, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV Mycroft Holmes, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:32:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: Mycroft wrestles with his inner demon at a particularly low point in his depression and anxiety.Lots of angst, with the voice of darkness urging him to hurt himself and him not wanting to. Instead, he calls Greg for help.





	Inner Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> This is some emotional stuff that I needed to just get out. I'm sorry if it triggers anyone; this is pretty how-it-goes for me and rather personal, but I had to write Greg giving help to try make it better even to me... and so I'm sharing it because maybe someone out there needs to read it. I'm seriously not just trying to make people sad/upset (this time). 
> 
> Hugs to everyone who can relate.

~ Mycroft always had to battle two parts of himself. A voice from deep within, and a rational counter. The darkest thoughts grew stronger as they were shoved away, and routinely resurfaced with a vengeance. They overwhelmed him to a point where he felt at a loss to fight against it. He wasn’t in control anymore; he was grasping at threads as they slipped through his fingers… and the panic over that loss only served to make the demon within even stronger. It was these moments where he was, through no fault of his own, a danger to himself. All he could do was try with all the strength remaining in his body to keep his resolve and talk himself into a better place. He’d never had anyone to rely on to do so for him, never had anyone to fall on when he failed, and was utterly terrified of the consequences if the dreaded voice took over. ~

 

Shaking, trembling. I can’t stop it. Breathe. Just breathe normally. It’s hard… why is it hard? I have to resist. It’s all too strong, too overwhelming. 

_Don’t fight._

I have to. 

_No, you don’t._

 

Sinister, but true. I don’t. I choose to. I have to. I don’t know why… is there reason? No, no I can’t let it suck me into those thoughts. 

_Do it._

No, I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want even more scars. 

_Not all injuries leave scars._

Yes, and not all pain is visible. But no one will understand that. I can’t submit. Why, God, why do I want to hurt? Is it so it’s physical instead? Because I need to punish myself? Because I’m not worth more?

_Yes._

Quiet! Breathe. I am, and yet it feels like I am not. I can feel my heart pounding. Every thud reminding me I am still here. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right?

 

_For whom?_

Alone. Yes, painfully alone. There never was anyone, so why is it still painful?

_Because the loneliness hurts more over time. Think of how much worse it’s going to get._

Never anyone there? Ever? I don’t know if I can do this again and again. 

_Then don’t._

 

No! No I have things to do. Important things. I have to watch Sherlock. 

_He has John._

There is always conflict in the world that needs my help, always countries ready to make idiotic decisions and endanger millions. 

_Not your problem if you’re not alive anymore._

No. I won’t. 

_Thing of how easy it would be._

It’s not. I’m terrified. I… I’m a coward, I’m scared. I can’t. 

_Yes. You are a coward. You should feel the pain of it. You want it, so don’t resist._

 

What to do? How much longer can I stay here in bed? I’m not required anywhere. I set the rules… if I decide not to show, then so it is. 

_Let everyone down, Mycroft, like normal._

They wouldn’t come find me because they cared. It’d only because I wasn’t serving them anymore. 

_No one cares about you._

No… they don’t. If I did… if anyone saw the injuries… they’d not question it, they’d not seek to help… as long as I provide what they want from me, all is well. 

_You wish for someone who will never come. Why prolong that suffering?_

Suffering is what I am destined. Is it not more of a punishment to remain in pain than take the easy way out?

 

_Very well, then show it._

How did… it shines in the dim light. Glinting. Cold. No… a moment’s weakness captured for eternity. I can’t. 

_Why should it bother you?_

The scolding, the hatred, the unquestionable truth that it doesn’t matter to those I would hope it did. 

_How would you know when you hide it?_

To display such shame is unthinkable. 

 

Breathe. Just do that. I can do that. I have to ignore the twisting in my gut, the hammering of my chest. Fighting the darkness strains me so… the fear of losing each battle brings such anxiety… it’s overwhelming.

_Call for help, Mycroft._

I can’t… I mustn’t! I can’t let anyone know! 

_Then there’s only one other option._

I can’t stay in this limbo. Every second is agony, draining my core. 

_Time to choose which you’ll do, Mycroft._

There is no one to call… I cannot speak, I cannot explain… I need just the comfort, without the judgement… that is impossible! I cannot remain anonymous and receive trivial robotic responses; the sheer panic over contacting a stranger well negates the mediocre benefit. 

_Choose now, Mycroft._

Who? I can’t. Maybe… no, I can’t. How could I look him in the eye? 

_Choose!_

What would he say? 

 

I don’t … I don’t want to do this. I don’t. Please stop… please, let me not do this. Shaking. Thundering. Swallowing, nervous. No. There has to be another way to let it out. 

_Time’s up, Mycroft._

Can’t breathe… phone in hand, dialling. How? How did I manage that? I stare at the metal, placed back on the nightstand, frozen as a new fear takes over. Oh god. I have to speak words. 

 

“Mycroft?”

_Answer him, idiot._

I cannot… my throat fails me. 

“Hello?”

_He’ll leave you to your misery, because you’re too cowardly to speak._

What on earth could I say? I can’t possibly explain, I can’t justify this call at… goodness knows what the hour is. I can’t pretend, either. 

“Mycroft?” 

Pounding, hammering, thundering… “Greg.” 

“Is… is everything ok?” 

_You can’t be honest. You can’t spread your poison to his pure soul._

How could I lie? “I-I am… apologise for… it’s late.” 

 

_Well didn’t that go charmingly?_

“Mycroft, what’s wrong?”

Everything, Gregory. Everything. I want to weep in your arms and scream it out in your embrace. 

_Pathetically childish._

I know, I know. I could never do so. It is unacceptable. 

_He expects an answer._

“I… yes. Calling. Not… not sure, I just… because…”

_Avoiding all of the content of a sentence doesn’t get the information across, dunce. You’re embarrassingly stupid. Really, you’d have been better off hurting yourself._

Yes. I am weak. 

 

“Mycroft you’re not making sense.”

I know, Gregory. None of this makes sense. Why now am I too weak to resist calling you? Why am I so overwhelmed by the darkness inside? 

_This is just… you’re doing him more harm than anything, having to endure this from you._

“Sorry, I’m sorry…”

So very sorry. I don’t know why I’ve done this to you. 

“Mycroft, you’re starting to worry me.” 

_Now look what you’ve done? Made him waste his energy on such a pitiful creature as yourself. You can’t even stand up against yourself, why do you think he’s going to bother?_

Gasps. No, struggle to keep them down. Normal breathing. Present as normal. 

_End this madness._

“Mycroft? Seriously, talk to me. What’s happened?”

Happened. That’s it, isn’t it? Nothing. What am I to say? Nothing happened. I am just this horrible all the time and can take no more today, this moment, for no reason?

 

“Nothing.” 

_Well, at least it’s true._

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… please, forgive me, I-I’lll leave you to sleep, Greg.”

“No, Mycroft, wait!”

He… he stops me? Why? 

_Because he’s a wonderful, kind soul that would care for any monster needing his help._

“Don’t run away. I’m here, yeah? I’m always here if you need me.” 

_You can’t unload on him. You can’t hurt him that way. Hurt yourself, but not him. Never him._

I couldn’t bear to make him suffer on my account. 

 

“That’s… too kind, Gregory. I… if I… it… no need. Shouldn’t have… sorry.” Lie. Obvious lie. Escape, pretend, then take option two. 

“Mycroft, you’re scaring me. Just talk to me. Do you need me to come over?”

Yes. Honestly? Yes. I need you. I need to feel someone is there. That YOU are there. Please. 

_No. You can’t do that to him. How would he react? What would he say? And what of tomorrow?_

 

“What is going through your head?”

I can’t take it. I feel horrible. I can’t fight myself. I can’t fight the urge to harm myself. I can’t… not alone. I need you. Please. Don’t hate me, please. It hurts. I can’t breathe from the fighting. 

_If he knew, he’d be disgusted with you. He’d see how selfish you are and run. Listen to yourself._

“I… can’t say.” 

“Why not? I don’t think this is to do with National Security. This sounds more personal.” 

“… Terrified.” 

_Yes, admit that right off. Don’t lead up to it or anything._

“Of what, Mycroft?” 

What indeed? Failing? The inevitable shame and loneliness? Harm? Death? “Myself.” 

“Why are you terrified of yourself, Myc?” 

_Go on, you cretin. Explain away how terrible you are and give him all the reason to hate you._

“I … I can’t…” No, I can’t break into tears now. Not this on top of everything else. 

_Bravo, you’ve managed to make this even worse. Just hang up and bleed, it’d be better for everyone._

 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s just me, yeah? I’m on my way over now, ok? So just keep talking to me. You can just listen, instead, if you need, and cry.”

_Jesus fuck, what does he think of you? He’s talking to you like he would in his job, talking down someone off a roof._

How different is it, really? There’s no roof but there is the fall.

_Everyone would be better if you fell._

I… I don’t want to. I can’t get out of this alone but I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t think I can do this anymore, though. Not like this. 

_Shame on you, Mycroft. Too weak to manage on your own._

 

“Mycroft? Are you still with me?” 

Yes, for now, Gregory. As long as I can manage. Doesn’t that make me sound pathetic? “Mhm.”

“Good. Now, I’ll be there soon. Can you tell me where you are?”

Where does he expect me to be?

_On a bridge, no doubt._

“Home. Bed.” 

“Good. Can you just stay there for me?”

Shame. Guilt. Torture. I shouldn’t have called. I can’t bring myself to stop him. I can’t say it’s not needed for him to talk like that. 

_What’s going to happen next time, Mycroft? You didn’t think of that, did you._

I don’t want there to be a next time. 

_Well then didn’t you pick the wrong choice?_

“Yes.” 

_He’s not going to do this again, you know._

I am aware. I can at least know what it’s like to be cared for once, can’t I? 

_Yes but next time you’ll just hurt more knowing what you don’t have._

 

“Good. Now, I want you to be honest with me Mycroft… can you do that?” 

Probably not. I’m already terrified of saying anything to you to make this all worse. More shameful.I know what you’re about to ask. How can I possibly answer that properly? 

_Yes, clench your jaw and hold your breath. That’ll fix this situation._

“I… will try.” 

“Are you in any danger?”

 

I appreciate you not specifying from whom I would be endangered. I can tell you know, though. 

_Well, Mycroft? Are you?_

I… I don’t know. What should I classify danger as? Should I try be dismissive to alleviate his concern, or be honest and actually know what it’s like to give up trying to be better?

“Mycroft?”

“I… don’t know.” 

“Alright. Ok. Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Snort, but the laughter isn’t fun, is it? I am not already bleeding or dying, so why would… wait… you, Gregory? You would do that, for me? 

_Ship you off to someone else, Mycroft. He’s probably wanting to shovel off this problem you’ve dumped on him._

No, Gregory isn’t like that. He… he actually cares. He shouldn’t, over someone like me, but he does anyway. 

“No. I am not… injured.” 

“If you’re about to be, though, Myc, you need urgent help. I’m gonna be twenty minutes, and you might not be able to get through that.” 

_Listen to how little faith he has in you. You’ve gone thirty years fighting and he’s worried you won’t get through the next twenty minutes. You must sound utterly deplorable._

But is he right? I had the blade in my hand… “You. No one else.” 

“I can’t promise that.” 

That is fair, logically. I just… I don’t want more people. Strangers. Judgement. Hatred. Breathe. Tremble. Pound. Sinking, twisting, churning, choking… 

 

“Hey, hey, Myc? No, it’s ok. Stay listening to me, yeah? It’ll be just me there soon.” 

“Greg… I… help.” 

Muttering curses to himself. Over me. Shame. Guilt. 

“I’m coming. Just a bit longer. There’s bugger-all traffic at this hour.”

“I don’t know why.” 

“Shh, it’s alright.”

“No…” No it’s not alright. Nothing about this is alright. I’m here, having lost the battle to stay in control against this darkness and I’ve succumbed to the weakness and called you. You’re now having to waste your energies on me. 

_Still not too late to choose otherwise, Mycroft._

I can’t present Greg with that. I can’t do that to him. 

_If you go all the way, you won’t care._

“NO!” Quiet! Gregory is coming and I don’t want to listen to your poison! 

“Mycroft? What is it?”

“…The…” What? Voice? I can’t say that. Urge? Dark thoughts? “… In my mind.” 

“What’s in your mind, Myc?”

“Darkness.” 

_Don’t sound melodramatic at all, Mycroft. No._

“The… thoughts. Urging me.”

“Urging you… what?” 

Hearing the concern is painful, Greg. How could I have gotten here? Admitting this? My whole life it has been hide it away, leave only hints when it gets to the worst. Now? Now I’m spewing that honesty like radiation, intent to poison those around me. And no one goes near radiation once they realise. I don’t want to be alone. 

_Answer him, Mycroft. What are you going to say? If he’s putting this much effort in, he really does deserve the truth from you. I dare you to give it._

“Harm.” 

 

There. Blunt, honest. Await the reaction. 

“Ok. Have you?”

That’s… not a shout. Not a scold. “Not this time.” 

_Hoorah, you’ve just revealed more of your shameful secret. I’d clap if I had hands._

“Good. That’s good. Do you feel like you’re going to?”

Please stop being so professional, Greg. I don’t want to be another case. I am, though, aren’t I? I wish I could, Greg. I do want to just resort to that instead. The blade is only for convenience. I want more. Hit by something. So, I guess, probably not. But it’s there. That might be tempting enough. 

“Mycroft?”

“Talking.” Instead, that is. It’s painful enough to placate that desire. 

_He doesn’t get the connection, you twat. Fuck, Mycroft, all you had going for you was your brain and you’ve gone as thick as the rest of them. Why bother?_

“Yes and that’s good. Stay talking to me.” 

“But for how long?”

“As long as you need, Myc. As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

~ Mycroft, for the first time in his life, received a hug from someone looking upon his broken façade. Greg saw his tears, saw the blade, and held him. He didn’t let him go. He uttered quiet words, he made no indication of disgust at being cried into. The voice was silent as Greg comforted him. It gave back to Mycroft that tiny sliver of hope that had slipped away that night. If the voice could be silent now, perhaps it will be again. If it was possible to get care without derivation, then maybe he could manage. For some reason, he was able to believe Greg’s platitudes that he wasn’t going to leave him alone to deal with this. ~


End file.
